By Jerry Barksdale for The News Courier
Several years ago an elderly lady asked me what I wanted to do before I died.
“Canoe the Missouri River,” I said.
“Live your passion, young man! Live your passion!”
Actually, my only passion at the time was keeping my cholesterol level below 200 and paying my alimony on time. But, I didn’t forget her sage advice.
After reading “Undaunted Courage,” a story about the Lewis and Clark expedition, I have wanted to canoe the upper Missouri River. In their journals, they described seeing purple mountains, endless plains and beautiful rivers.
I don’t know why I didn’t take the trip years ago. Timing is everything in life. Now, I know the answer. I wanted to wait until gasoline went to $4.30 per gallon. It’s my way. If it were raining soup, my bowl would be upside down.
With my $600 stimulus check from Uncle Sam enroute, I suddenly felt rich. I decided to blow it all at one time.
Pat Goodin and I flew to Jackson Hole, Wy., rented a car and headed over Teton Pass into Idaho destined for Montana’s Big Sky Country and the Missouri River.
At Great Falls, where Lewis and Clark portaged their canoes 18 1/2 miles around five water falls, we stocked up on fried chicken and big joe potatoes before striking out for Fort Benton, once a fur trading post on the bank of the Missouri River. It was there, while sitting on a park bench munching on chicken and big joe’s, that we hooked up with Mike, an outfitter.
“I don’t need a guide, only a canoe,” I said.
“Do you have experience?”
“Ohhhh sure.”
He rented us a canoe, two paddles and two life preservers. We loaded into his pick-up and rode 15 miles up the river to Carter’s Ferry.
“You’ll have to sign this,” Mike said, shoving a waiver at me. It didn’t even guarantee to fish our corpses out of the water. We were on our own. We signed.
“That’ll be seventy-five dollars,” said Mike. “And in cash.”
We unloaded at a small ferry and buckled on life preservers while Mike slid the canoe into the swift current and held it steady.
Being a gentleman, I let Pat board first.
“Hey, lady! Turn around, you’re seated backward,” said Mike. “I thought you had experience.”
Big deal! Anyone can get confused about directions. I pushed off.
“Goood luck,” Mike hollered.
The current was swift and the water cold. Soon we were shooting down river through white caps.
It was wild, beautiful country, where bald eagles peered down from their cliff perch. Deer was plentiful. We attempted to land on a small island, but the current was too swift and we shot past. Down river, we did land on a small island and immediately saw fresh bear tracks in the mud. We moved on. As we approached our landing spot at Fort Benton, we angled across the river, intent on letting the current shoot us directly to our destination.
“I predict that we’ll make a spectacular landing,” I said, steering us toward the bank.
“Uh-huh.” Pat deadpanned.
I reached out and grabbed a rock to stop us. The current was strong. My grip slipped. Splash! I fell into the river; grabbed the canoe; it spun around. I held on for life and finally dragged the canoe to the bank.
“Well, you were right about one thing,” Pat said.
“What?” I said, shivering in my wet clothes.
“It waas…. a spectacular landing.”
